Chapter 36 – As The Light Dies
A/N: I am so sorry for not updating this past Friday. I recently started a second job and my dog has developed some concerning medical issues – you know, life just getting in the way. I promise to do my best to get a chapter out each week but no promises. However, we are getting close to the end and soon this project of mine will move from the dreaded WIP classification. Enjoy!
Hermione was sitting on the couch, completing a last read-thru of their ritual and sipping on a cool cup of water when the door of the cottage slammed open. Instinctively, she cast the cup aside and wordlessly cast a Protego shield, her body set in a defensive position. However, she dropped the shield in alarm at the sight of Draco hunched over, panting and pale faced. She rushed over and placed nervous hands on his trembling shoulders.
"Draco!" her voice riddled with panic, "What in Merlin's name is going on? Are you alright?!"
Struggling to get his breath under control, he placed a clammy hand over hers and raised his head. His eyes searched hers as platinum strands hung like a brilliant curtain. Hermione was taken aback by the look she saw in those eyes. She also noticed that his runes appeared different somehow. She couldn't place how or why she knew. His breathing slowed and he lifted the other hand to cup her cheek. She flushed under the contact but leaned into the touch anyways.
"Draco, you are scaring me." She whispered, "What happened?"
His hand dropped from her cheek as he stood upright and staggered over to the seat she had previously occupied.
"I met Tegid Foel." He answered simply as if merely commenting on the weather, dropping like a stone to the couch and laid his arms across the top with an exhausted air.
Hermione blinked slowly, her brain short circuiting. Met Tegid Foel? How was this possible?! A thousand thoughts and theories ran rampant as her mind began firing on all cylinders.
"Granger." He growled, snapping her out of her mental marathon, "I can practically hear the questions bouncing around in big brain of yours and that's without using Occlumency. Come over here and I'll tell you everything."
She frowned and turned towards him. If she hadn't been so riddled with concern, she might have been able to fully admire how beautiful he looked. He was draped languidly on the sofa, his head tilted back and eyes closed. His hair fanned out like a halo of blinding gold. He normally kept it tied back and more often than not, she caught herself wishing he would leave the silken strands loose. More surprisingly, she had come to terms that she liked him better with long hair. She had thought it would be too reminiscent of his horrid father but as time went on, she realized he shared more of the imperial grace and beauty his mother had possessed. His arched position had also enhanced the view of his broad chest, a slight sheen of sweat covered the visible skin. That shifted her gaze from a position of admiration to something much baser. Abruptly realizing the depth of her blatant gawking, she gave an embarrassed cough and sat at his side.
"Start from the beginning." She commanded, summoning two glasses of water, and settled into the couch with anticipation.
Afterwards, Hermione stared at him in a mixture of shock, awe, and a smidge of jealously. She couldn't logically explain the envy. Some part of her brain was somewhat irritated that Draco's counterpart was a stunning, mythical beast whereas Cerridwen was a terrifying harpy-like creature capable of very dark magic. She was also jealous she didn't get to witness Tegid Foel himself. She had offhandedly wondered how the other half of Cerridwen looked – no imagery of him existed anywhere except in name only. She mentally scolded herself at for such a childish line of thinking. She glanced over at Draco, who had gone eerily quiet upon completing his story. His brows creased and a small frown marred his features, he appeared completely lost in thought.
"Hey," she called out softly, "We'll get through this together. You and I were literally top in our class."
His eyes slid in her direction, his frown deepening.
"But Tegid Foel said she could outsmart even the cleverest of seekers. Do you honestly think a couple of Hogwarts drop-outs can bypass thousands of years of knowledge?" he countered tightly, his hands gripping the top of the couch.
"We didn't drop out!" she hissed in indignation, "We are merely on hiatus."
"Semantics, Granger." He remarked dryly, rolling his eyes, "My point still stands."
"Despite your horribly flawed statement," she declared hotly, "I also think we have an advantage."
"Meaning?" he prompted, arching a skeptical eyebrow at her.
"Meaning, we are seeking Cerridwen to understand her. We aren't approaching her for her power or pursuing the knowledge that was stolen from her. We are simply looking for the proper method of bonding, plus this mission ensures her physical form, or rather me, survives. Wouldn't that entice her to help us out?"
He regarded her with an odd expression before it softened into a vague smirk.
"A very Slytherin approach, but" he began, "Wrapped in noble Gryffindor intentions. I'm impressed."
Hermione merely scowled at him.
"But you are right." He sighed in defeat, his eyes closing once again, "It might just work in our favor and I'd rather not spend more time with her than necessary. I've already had one encounter with a magical being who basically let me suffocate in hell sand."
"I'll let you rest. We've still got a couple hours before dusk." She urged gently, giving his hand a quick squeeze, "I'll finish prepping everything and wake you with enough time to wash."
She stood as he shifted into a lying position, giving a nod of gratitude for her offer. She smiled softly, gathered her ritual supplies, and headed for the upstairs reading nook. It would take her a bit longer to get everything prepared without his assistance, but he needed the rest more than her. She still needed to set up the ritual area, cleanse all the tools, transfigure all the necessary stones and candles, and then wash herself. Sighing, she settled into the welcoming bench and set to memorizing the invocation words. Tonight would probably be the longest and most intense night of their lives and Hermione wasn't entirely sure they were ready to face it.
Draco was shaken from his deep sleep roughly an hour or so before sundown. He hadn't even remembered falling asleep and he had dreamed of nothing. It wasn't a lack of dreams but rather a lack of anything. He had dreamed of that pitch black void. The thought of it felt like a stone in the pit of his stomach. Shaking off the last remnants of hopelessness he felt in that place, he gave a heavy sigh and stood stiffly. Hermione was toweling her damp hair and gesturing him towards the bathroom.
"I left a cup of dried herbs in there for you. Infuse them in the water and make sure to wash yourself thoroughly. Use room temperature water only if possible." She commanded.
"I know Granger. We've discussed the ritual purification process many times." He huffed in irritation.
"Sorry." She answered sheepishly, "Old habits. Harry and Ron were absolutely hopeless at directions."
Draco snorted in response. That did not surprise him one bit. Those two blundering lions would have probably drowned in the Black Lake if they didn't have Hermione there to order them about. He gave her a smirk and set to task. Despite his casual remarks, he made sure to follow the purification process down to the last detail. He was not going to make a single mistake regarding tonight if he had anything to say about it. Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom scrubbed raw and smelling of mint. He was pleasantly surprised to find out that he did, in some way, feel cleaner and lighter. He wasn't sure if it was in his head or an actual result of the purification. He shrugged and headed upstairs to change into their black ritual robes.
Dropping the towel, he put on the heavy cloak and was immediately wrapped in the scent of mint again. He sniffed at the fabric and realized with a smirk that Hermione had also done ritual purification on their robes.
Clever witch.
He dropped the robe and fastened the series of delicate buttons, one by one. As he clasped each button, Draco felt his heartbeat increase with each movement. This was really happening. He was willingly walking into the line of magical fire. Pitting himself against Cerridwen. He wasn't ready and he was sure he never would be. Taking several deep breathes, he forced himself to calm down. Panicking would do them no good this evening. Cerridwen would smell the fear on him and use that her advantage. His heart murmured back to a somewhat normal rhythm, he glanced at the dying light of sundown and knew Hermione would already be in the ritual space, patiently awaiting him. He squared his shoulders and walked out the door.
Draco arrived at the edge of the forest, set a safe distance from the cottage and gazebo just in case. She was standing next to a small cauldron that was hanging over a large pile of logs. Series of runes were carved into the ground surrounding the cauldron. Draco recognized some of the symbols: protection, magical enhancement, safe journeys, and the alchemy symbols of earth, wind, water, and fire – all encased in a large circle. Several candles dotted the edge of the circles, their colors corresponding to the holiday namesake. Red, black, and white. She gave him a small smile and walked over, holding something in her hand.
"We'll step inside the circle and light the fire when at sundown." She instructed before reaching out and opening her palm, "Make sure to wear this before we begin."
In her hand was a large faceted gray crystal – smoky quartz. Meant as an amplifier for their magic, a conduit of sorts. It hung from a long delicate chain and sparkled softly in the last rays of afternoon light. Draco smiled as the amulet. She never ceased to amaze him with her newfound powers nor the lengths she went to make sure he was protected. Reaching out, he took the dark crystal and looped it over his head. The stone laid heavy against his chest, the chain cutting into his neck slightly. He gave her a knowing look. She had purposefully created the weight imbalance to give him something to focus on, something to assist him in distinguishing between their world and Cerridwen's.
"I have one as well." She spoke, gesturing to a matching necklace of her own, "Two shards from a single crystals, both charged under the last full moon and rinsed in purification water. It would allow us to be connected magically with each other during the ritual."
"No doubt these will come in handy." He joked lightly, hoping to diffuse some of the tense energy surrounding them.
She gave a hesitant smile and looked to the tree's edge. His eyes followed her and he nodded in approval upon seeing the pile of offerings she had carefully arranged. The gifts of herbs, stones, and vegetables were meant to be on offering to the Fae and wandering spirits. A form of payment that would allow them to perform their magic without interruption. As the final ray of light disappeared behind the horizon, his eyes met hers, the unspoken apprehension mirroring each other's. He gave her a determined nod and she exhaled sharply.
"Ready?" she murmured, fingering the crystal around her neck nervously.
"As ready as I'll ever be. You?" he croaked back, slightly perturbed by the level of terror written in her eyes.
"No, but I don't think we really have a choice." She sighed bitterly.
"Hermione," he began, walking to her side and took her hands in his, "We'll get through this together. We've already made it this far. Honestly, I don't see how it could get much worse."
She gave a hollow, bitter laugh. A sound Draco wished he'd never hear again. It felt as if all hope had been sucked from the world if she of all people doubted their chances. He knew before they made this journey, he needed to confess to her, even if she rebuffed him, to full depth of his devotion. If things went horribly wrong, his mind and heart forbid him to let the moment pass. Slytherins didn't let chances go to waste. She was his past, his present, and his future. She inhaled sharply as he closed the space between them and tugged the robe's hood over her head. The scent of mint, rosemary, and something earthy lingered between them. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating and he was grateful for the dimming light so she could not see the heat that burned on his cheeks as he considered the fact that she was completely nude between that thick, black layer. His hand trailing down, he encircled her waist and pulled her flush against him. She gasped at the sudden movement then stilled abruptly when she obviously detected his desire for her.
"Draco?" she murmured, her hands coming up to rest on his chest, fingers splayed.
"Together, Hermione." He urged, pressing closer to her, so close he could feel the thunder of her heartbeat, "We do this together. It seems for many lifetimes, we've danced this waltz of indecision, heartbreak, passion, and understanding. I can no longer imagine my life without you. No matter the outcome of this evening, I am yours."
As his voice trailed off, her bright eyes searched his. Draco held his breath in anticipation and fear. He couldn't read the look on her face, but somewhere deep down, he result a keen sense of relief at finally vocalizing the words he had buried so profoundly. Even if she rejected him, he could live without that particular regret. Slowly and somewhat timidly, her hands slid up his chest and curled around his neck. She slipped his hood on in return and he began to crumble at her lack of response and neutral expression. The cracking Draco felt in his chest was indescribable. She was gently turning him down and he began to pull away so she wouldn't see the mist building in his eyes.
"Stop." Came her small command and he stilled immediately, "Look at me."
He shifted cautiously, unprepared of the look of distaste and pity he might find in her eyes. Slowly, his eyes lifted to hers. His heart thrummed when he found a tender smile written across her face.
"Yours." She whispered and tugged him down into a raw and mind-numbing kiss.
Draco was instantly pulled under, lost in all the inner turmoil, uncertainty, and wretched hope that raced through his head. All he knew was her, as if his very existence hinged upon that kiss. It spoke everything they had said or would ever say. It spoke of centuries worth of whispered words, passionate declarations, and emboldened pleas. His tongue slipped against the curve of her lips, gently demanding entrance. With a breathy moan, she responded in turn and it was nothing like he had ever experienced. He suddenly understood why people described kissing as melting because every square inch of his body threatened to dissolve into hers. He molded against her supple form, frantic for more contact. He had never wanted anyone like this before. Ever. And he vowed he'd destroy the world if it meant just another moment with her.
With a great gasp, they reluctantly separated. Once again, their runes were glowing softly, likely bolstered by their eager affections. He took a small smirk of satisfaction as the deep flush on her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to evoke that response over and over.
"Wow." She breathed, absentmindedly smoothing out the front of her robe.
"Doesn't even begin to describe it." He responded, reaching out to trace a golden rune on her cheek, "As much as I'd love to continue, we have a ritual to begin."
She sobered immediately, a tenacious mask slipping into place.
"I suppose we do. Let's begin." She announced, stepping to the edge of the ritual circle where Cerridwen's symbol lay etched into the ground before her and gestured for him to stand near his counterpart symbol on the opposite side.
Trepidation filled Draco as he walked over to his mark. Once they began, there was no turning back. He was worried more for her health and safety than his own and he was struck once again how vastly different of a wizard he had become. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he watched as she directed a flash of scalding fire to ignite beneath the cauldron. His breath seized momentarily, the scene reminding him of his father's tale of the Dark Lord's return in the graveyard all those years ago. Feeling her eyes upon him, he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that it was Hermione before him and not the Dark Lord.
He directed a resolute nod towards her and she inclined her head in return. With a determined glint in her eyes, she marched over the line and motioned for him to do the same. He felt a shiver crawl down his spine and it filled his veins with ice.
It was time.